


love too, will ruin us

by suhologist (avisdreams)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Blood and Injury, Byun Baekhyun Has a Mullet, Gang AU, M/M, Tenderness, Wound Cleaning, and i'm NOT going to apologize for it, sounds scarier than it is!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:55:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28513002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avisdreams/pseuds/suhologist
Summary: In the dim light of the hallway Junmyeon see’s that there’s mud that's dribbled down the side of his neck, down his throat, under the collar of his shirt. Junmyeon frowns, and Baekhyun sighs. Not mud, Junmyeon realizes, but dried blood.
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun/Kim Junmyeon | Suho
Comments: 7
Kudos: 37
Collections: Starry Suho Fest (R1)





	love too, will ruin us

**Author's Note:**

> prompt S136 for starrysuho fest
> 
> thank you to the mods for being accommodating and for a great first round. also to j & e for reading prior and validating me ♡  
> to the prompter: i hope you this is to your liking and that you enjoy!

In the beginning Junmyeon used to brace himself for the jingle of keys, the knock on the door, the shuffling of his own footsteps. The only sounds he could hear in his high-end apartment that was professionally cleaned every two weeks was the low buzz of the electricity and his own resigned and expectant sigh as he would open the door to see Baekhyun standing there, eyes downcast at his own feet.

Now Junmyeon can admit he has begun to fall just as far as Baekhyun as he waits on the outskirts at designated pickup locations. Junmyeon frequently asks himself whether or not it’s enabling, but he also doesn’t trust anyone else, even Baekhyun, to get him home safely. Junmyeon can’t bring himself to ever take Baekhyun to these fights, these jobs, but now he waits for him, takes him home.

After a job Baekhyun always looks like a boy playing dress-up, trying to be older than he is with harsher edges where he’s still youthful and soft. This life isn’t what he imagined for Baekhyun, only in his early twenties with a whole life still ahead of him. Headstrong and determined, this was not the direction he imagined him going with all of the potential Junmyeon once saw and admired him for. 

He thinks of the occasional whispers, the frequent looks and the lingering stares they get when they walk down the street in public. When they’re out together it’s the contrast of their looks; Baekhyun the young rebel with old smudged eyeliner next to Junmyeon. Junmyeon who doesn’t have a single age line or wrinkle on his face, and yet intrinsically older and wealthier in his designer sweaters and accessories. His outfits costing more than the median paycheck. Junmyeon knows their assumptions when he takes a younger looking man who dresses like he could never dream to eat in the restaurants they go to while he hands over his black card.

But Baekhyun can easily afford his own things, his own clothes, even the expensive meals Junmyeon loves so much. Junmyeon just likes spoiling and spending and giving when he can. And he can, so he does. He lets the stares linger and occasionally meets them, smiles dark and dangerous— like he’s the one wielding knives and making threats and sending a message that he doesn’t fuck around.

It’s a powerful feeling, knowing everyone has it so, so wrong. Junmyeon revels in it, his own guilty pleasure.

Depending on the night Baekhyun can be still be running on the adrenaline after a job, the high of a fight making him feisty and wiry like a colt. These are the evenings Junmyeon plays along and lets Baekhyun wrangle him into playful submission, which nearly always escalates to more. Those are the nights Junmyeon’s heart swells with adoration, remembers when he first met Baekhyun, loud and outgoing but a homebody who more than anything just wanted to stay wrapped up under the covers for hours on end. 

Other nights he sometimes looks like every bit of that spark for life has been wrung out of him, leaving him with hardly anything left. The horrors and truth of the things he’s seen and done on replay in his brain playing out like a list of reasons he’s doomed to burn for the rest of eternity. 

Tonight is one of those nights.

Junmyeon didn’t even know he was on a job. Baekhyun doesn’t live with him, though the offer has been on his mind lately. The closer Junmyeon can keep him the more he tells himself he can be there for when he’s needed. For nights like tonight.

So after the knock on the door, the shuffle of Junmyeon’s footsteps, the unlocking of the deadbolt, and the soundless opening of the door— Baekhyun stands before Junmyeon.

He’s wearing snug fitting light colored jeans with less than artful rips and holes on his knees Baekhyun probably made himself. A plain, nondescript black zip-up hoodie. He tosses the hood back and unzips, slings it over his arm. His shirt, a semi fitted black t-shirt. Junmyeon frowns at that, he’s learned that when Baekhyun wears clothes that are supposed to be more form fitted it means he doesn’t want to give an opportunity for someone to grab and pull him down.

Baekhyun only meets Junmyeon’s eyes for a moment as he walks through the threshold and into the apartment, unable to decipher the feelings behind them.

With each passing day Junmyeon becomes more and more endeared to Baekhyun’s hair; it’s not going away anytime soon. Dark brown hair, so dark Junmyeon thought it was black for the longest time, with messy chunks of red that Chanyeol streaked through his hair one day, cutting and layering the sides while the length grew down his nape. It’s distinctive, and never something Junmyeon would want, but it works. And now it’s just so recognizably _Baekhyun._

But as Baekhyun moves past him it looks wet, almost matted. In the dim light of the hallway Junmyeon see’s that there’s mud that's dribbled down the side of his neck, down his throat, under the collar of his shirt. Junmyeon frowns, and Baekhyun sighs. Not mud, Junmyeon realizes, but dried blood.

“You’re hurt.”

“Oh,” Baekhyun murmurs, sounding dazed. 

Junmyeon doesn’t reply as he catches Baekhyun’s wrist, redirecting him and leading him towards the bathroom. Baekhyun doesn’t say anything either, just lets himself be led down the hallway, readjusts so he can hold Junmyeon’s hand instead. Junmyeon grasps back, a gentle squeeze, a quiet reassurance.

Junmyeon leaves the door open and wordlessly directs Baekhyun to sit on the closed lid of the toilet while he starts pulling supplies from the cupboard. The buzz from the fluorescent lights a new sound to focus on, the brightness of everything bouncing off his white appliances and walls. He finds what he needs; gauze, peroxide, hand towels, ointments, bandages.

Baekhyun picks and wrings his hands. Blood is cracked and dried in the crevices of his nail beds, almost brown, a rushed wash that reminds Junmyeon of Baekhyun’s poor attempts at removing a dark nail polish, staining the skin and nails. It makes Junmyeon wonder, for the briefest of moments, if it’s even Baekhyun’s. Both scenarios used to haunt him, but now only one truly bothers him. He doesn’t think about the other people anymore. He can’t.

Junmyeon organizes things in order of their use, letting his brain trail off during the short monotony of setting up. He admires Baekhyun's hands so much, one of his favorite things about him. They’re similar in height, but Baekhyun’s hands are larger, his fingers long and nimble and lacking softness where Junmyeon’s are small and gentle; too soft and proves he could never hold a bat the same way Baekhyun’s colleagues do.

“Are you gonna kiss it better?” Baekhyun asks, a hint of teasing and bravado behind it. But Junmyeon knows, can see past the facade. 

Junmyeon was reminded of a boy he once knew, a boy who was kind, funny, and scared of the world he’s now so entangled in. Entangling them both in, even if it's in different ways.

Once upon a time Junmyeon would be pale. Nervous and jittery in making sure Baekhyun was safe under his care. There’s no shakiness to his movements, not anymore. His hands are steady as he carefully begins to work around cleaning the superficial cuts on Baekhyun’s hands. His mind wanders, marvels at how they can be the same hands that prefers welding a knife, can slice someone into ribbons, do such terrible things and also bring Junmyeon over the edge into bliss, coax him higher and higher before they both inevitably tumble into hell. _Better together,_ Junmyeon thinks.

Junmyeon stopped asking questions a long time ago; what happened, who did this, why, how, _please Baekhyun_. He knew he wouldn’t answer, an unsaid acknowledgment that he couldn’t. The option to leave was always there. But what sort of life without Baekhyun would that be.

Junmyeon wonders, sometimes, if there’s gonna be an injury he’ll one day be too faint to patch up. Will it all come crumbling down, when Baekhyun has gone too far?

So instead he takes care of him, would break any rule to keep him safe. Has started brandishing his own precautions when he began knowing where to be and when to be there and learning how to keep him safe when he’s not working. Because that’s what this is, work. Baekhyun’s fallen down the moral ladder and landed amongst the other souls who lost their way. 

“I don’t deserve you.”

“I disagree.”

Baekhyun splutters. Junmyeon feels the heat bloom in his cheeks. An aching sort of tenderness towards Baekhyun, and everything they’ve been through. Everything he plans on going through. 

“This isn’t up for debate—” Baekhyun flusters, but he stays still and doesn’t pull away while Junmyeon continues to sterilize the scrapes on his hands and arms. “I’m hardly a good person.” 

Junmyeon dampens the corner of a white wash cloth with warm water, easier to see what and how much he’s cleaning. He holds his gaze to Baekhyun, and Baekhyun refuses to look back. Junmyeon can see the tense grinding of his teeth and takes his free hand, moves it up to to softly and tenderly cradle Baekhyun’s jaw. “Look at me.”

His eyes open automatically, even if Baekhyun wanted to look away he couldn’t. Junmyeon has never made him do anything he didn’t want. Instead it always makes Baekhyun more eager to please. 

“Do you think I don’t know who you are?” Junmyeon gently admonishes, expression soft. He holds his gaze a moment longer, and then drops his hand from Baekhyun’s jaw. Baekhyun swallows a desperate gulp to compose himself while Junmyeon focuses his gaze to the nape of Baekhyun’s head, dried blood congealing and matting his hair, and begins to gently dab.

“Do you want to know what I think?” Junmyeon asks, Baekhyun hopelessly incapacitated by the heat radiating between their bodies as Junmyeon continues to oh-so-gently clean the excess of blood and sweat and grime. Junmyeon doesn’t wait for an answer.

“I think you deserve to be taken care of,” Junmyeon murmurs, parting the hair behind Baekhyun’s ear, swollen and bruised with an already healing wound beginning to scab over. It still needs to be cleaned properly. Junmyeon saturates a new corner of the washcloth, untainted with rusty remnants of Baekhyun’s blood, and begins to gently clean the surrounding area. He doesn’t ask how this happened, but he creates his own scenarios of how he’d do worse to whoever did this to _his_ Baekhyun.

Baekhyun winces, the spot sore and tender. “I’m not a kid.”

“No,” Junmyeon agrees, his daydreams of hitting whoever did this over the head with a bat he’s learned to grip disrupted, “you’re not. But even though you’re not a kid you’re still going to let me take care of you.” No questions, Junmyeon is so sure of it. He hums and leans back, “Because that’s what I want to do.” 

“You don’t deserve to be with someone like me.” Baekhyun counters.

Junmyeon holds back a sigh, they’ve had this conversation before, under similar circumstances. “If I decide I want to spoil you rotten because I love you, are you really going to stop me?"

Baekhyun still hasn’t learned how to stop bracing himself for a punch that is never coming. He squirms in place, but he’s only met with that patient expression which Baekhyun doesn't know how to argue with.

“Are you?” Junmyeon presses. He pays attention to his task, prepping an alcohol wipe to disinfect.

“No.”

A difference between conversations like this they’ve had before is that Baekhyun had a split lip instead of a trauma to the head. But the lack of a bloody lip lets Junmyeon lean in for a chaste kiss, delicate hands pressing the alcohol wipe to Baekhyun’s head. 

“Aaah,” Baekhyun breaks the kiss to gasp in pain, but doesn’t jerk away. 

“That’s a good boy,” Junmyeon praises.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed! yes that is a siken quote as the title, i think he would approve of the themes in this piece of fiction. 
> 
> you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/avisdreams)


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